


Watch That Fire Burn

by eternal_optimist



Series: dragon!caroline' verse [2]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragons, F/M, Female-Centric, Fluff, World Travel, kinda of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_optimist/pseuds/eternal_optimist
Summary: Four times Caroline ran into Klaus, and the one time she went to him.





	Watch That Fire Burn

1516,

Caroline learns early in her immortal life that her feet do not like to be shackled in one place for long. The only exception to that was Italy, but papa had been there and so it had been out of the question that she missed a single moment with him while his heart had still been beating.

Humans only lived for a such short time, after all.

The sky and wind still called her though, it always had and always would.

Her father draws his last breath when she is only twenty five. It is not easy to ignore the tears streaking her face.

She sends the servants on their ways and closes the door to her home. She will come here again, just not soon. She does not think her heart could bear it, to look at the hallways where she had ran in, with ribbons laced around strands of her hair, and not feel like a knife was twisting and twisting deeper into her bones.

In Venice, Caroline sees the port full of passengers, wonders whether to let her wings lead her or see where the sea wants her to go.

The latter wins and she lands in Japan where the Noh Theater strives and she watches the performances about legends and old times.

Tan dons her body. She loves her kimono more than anything, floral prints decorating the fabric. Her mouth salivates each time she smells the local dishes cooked in the air.

Running into Klaus is a surprise, one where she is not exactly sure if she should be pleased or weary about. The memory of his eyes as he traced over her wings is fresh in her mind.

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart,” he says, lips quirking at the edges where a set of dimples appear. She thinks of something sharp to say.

The words die on the tip of her tongue when she realises that they were no longer in her home and she can’t demand things of him like she used to.

How unfortunate.

Caroline doesn’t reply as quickly as she would have liked. Klaus was dangerous, that she didn’t forget.

“Yes, it’s quite the shock,” she says briskly.

His kimono is deceptively simple. She likes how its calm blue colour matches his eyes.

She blinks at her line of thought, whispers to her dragon, its nails sharp and ready to dig in a firm _no_. The music that is beginning to play in the distance tell her that the play she’s here to see is starting soon.

It is the one about the Daimyo Samurai, her favourite. She refuses to miss it Klaus or no Klaus.

He sees it with her and parts away towards the finale. And that the end of it.

Or she so believes.

* * *

1624,

She adores this game she plays with herself; trying to guess which new place she’s going to visit next. By the end of her first century she has visited Persia, Egypt, Greece and parts of China. Her tongue speaks every new word she knows. It’s almost as freeing as soaring above Mount Tai during the night.

India, though, with its rich spices and colors draws her eyes immediately. She loves Asia. She loves everywhere she goes.

Her feet twirls around in the garden she has behind her home, and suddenly she wants to laugh with joy.

Papa would have loved it here, she thinks. The pain of the dagger that always carved its way through her at the memory of her father has lessened over the years, but that does not mean its sting is welcome.

In the morning, she walks to the market. A haughty blonde somehow ends up liking the very piece of silk that she’s been eyeing for a few days. There’s something decidedly un-native about her accent and familiar, too, but she can’t exactly pinpoint what and has she mentioned that this particular shade of red is just perfect for a sari that she has in mind now please get your hands off it.

The blonde looks like she’s ready to bite her head off, Caroline notes with amusement and she smells of raspberries, wood and that metal tang of bl-

“Rebekah, love, I thought we agreed to not make a fuss.”

How did she not notice him.

“She,” Rebekah says with an accusatory glance towards her, “is the one who is brewing trouble not I.”

Klaus’s eyes shift over her as if he hasn’t probably knew that she has been here and smiles, small and oh so charming.

 _No_ , she reminds the talons clawing at her mind.

“Pleasure to see you again, sweetheart.”

“I can’t say the same.” Damn dangerous. “Should I be suspicious of our so called chance meetings.”

“Hardly,” Klaus smoothly says. “I promise it’s just coincidence.”

She doesn’t completely believe him but he doesn’t need to know that.

* * *

There are days when the wind is not so chirpy, her wanderlust not so high and Caroline is left with this loneliness. She misses papa. She misses Italy, the beach and the flower crowns she weaved from the the roses and poppies she found on the hill not so far from the house.

The snarling, soaring creature that lurks beneath her skin on the other hand, is very satisfied with the sea that goes for miles, the way that she doesn’t have to be so careful all the time, hiding behind clouds and flying out of sights.

It’s the most beautiful thing she has ever seen in her life; the sunset framed by the edge of the water.

Amongst the quiet beauty of the mountain, the golden dragon sleeps.

* * *

1856,

Rumours of New Orleans circle around the supernatural world and she’s intrigued. One of her witch friends tell her of her plans to live there, mentioning how other covens has already established themselves among the city.

Enzo seems quite eager to go explore and she can’t exactly blame him. Their contact with other vampires and the likes had minimised during the past twenty years.

The magic that permeates the air mingles with her aura, and she breathes in the fragrance  of burning sage and cinnamon from the herbs shop on the left side of the sidewalk across the streets.

“Did you get what you need?” her friend asks, trying to startle her from behind but she barely bats an eye.

(Really he should know better by now.)

She huffs at his antics with a short laugh. “Most of them.”

Procuring something from his inner pocket of his jacket, Enzo pulls out a middle sized envelope  with elegant ink written words.

“What’s this?”

“We just got invited to a ball.”

Her eyebrows lift up with a silent question, taking the envelope from his hand - and did her eyes trick her or was the ink treated with gold water.

“Who are our hosts?”

Enzo shrugs, “ I am not exactly sure. People who call themselves the originals, heard they were some sort of royalty around here.”

They will probably turn out to be extremely old vampires who have a knack for theatrics, Caroline imagines, thinks of he who shall not be named and decides from her experience, that yes vampires were very much dramatic.

She is not to be disappointed in that regard, at least.

The main staircase is like a grand stage that beholds them, Klaus and Rebekah and other two males that she’s never seen before.

It’s not long before he approaches, still the very same.

“Out of all the people I expected to see today, you were not one of them.”

The sweet aftertaste of the chocolate is on her tongue. “I moved in New Orleans a few days back.”

The two other males and she are eventually introduced. She sees the way the younger looks like a canon that wants to be set loose and fire, her nostrils drown in the aroma of blood that surrounds him. The older one is polite with easiness that can enamor. She is not fooled for a second, the quiet are always the ones to be feared.

And Rebekah is a delight, of course.

She gives her one hard-measured look that makes her fear for her neck and says, “oh, it’s you.”

Klaus, is unperturbed by his siblings foolhardiness and neither is she. Her skin is not easily mangled, both figuratively and literally. He offers her his arm, with promises of showing around the city he and his family built.

Walking in the dress she’s wearing would be uncomfortable if not plain unconventional, she points out.

Klaus does not give up, and instead of giving her a set of practical clothes of Rebekah (who in between dances and teasing her brother had found time to strike some barbs at her) or worse as she has dreaded he’d do, just postpones it to early morning.

At six o’clock.

She shakes her head and says, “ten.” When dragging her body from the warmth of the bed would not be such a chore.

By some sort of miracle, Klaus manages to persuade her to stay longer in New Orleans than she originally intended to.

Three months roll in and she’s made herself a regular at the restaurant in the main square, a witch from the herb shop she frequents strikes up a friendship with her and at the end of every week Klaus takes her to try a new meal.

“I’ll see you in a few decades,” she whispers when she begins to hunger for new places. Because that’s her life now, grasping at the world with her fingertips, learning the mechanics of who she is and stumbling upon vampires every few years or so.

* * *

1923,

Apparently, she had really meant it.

Chicago brims with glamour and mobsters and trading guns among people is almost as common as inviting friends over for lunch.

Her heels click against the wooden polished floor of Gloria’s and she looks for Enzo, ends up finding him singing quietly from his table alongside the singer on stage.

“Enjoying yourself?”

He hums a confirmation without breaking eye contact with the band.

The music soon comes to a stop and the crowd clap and clap and the singer twirls, baking in the cheers, sewn beads floating around her as she does.

“I think this decade is shaping up to be a fantastic one.”

Her shoulder playfully hits his. “Of course you would think that.”

Enzo’s gaze sweeps behind her to where Gloria keeps sparing her untrusting glances. “I can’t believe this one doesn’t like you. All witches do.”

“Yes, it’s a shame, isn’t it?” she sighs in mock disappointment. All the old witches who amassed their powers take one peek at her and decide they don’t like her at all.

At least they have adequate survival instincts. 

“Alright, gorgeous. I am off to have some fun. See you in the morning.”

She sits contentedly, watching as another round of dancing commenced and high heels clicked, clicked, clicked.

Caroline fingers her coat, debates whether to leave and enjoy a good night in her bed.

Klaus and Rebekah sitting on a table on the corner catch her attention. (She is no longer surprised at seeing them, though the young vampire accompanying them at the table whose eyes are vacant and teeth gleam leaves her unsure.)

Quietly, she approaches them and keeps still. Klaus doesn’t even give the hint of having sensed her, seemingly taken with the little show.

“Now, slit your wife’s hand and drink her blood,” the vampire commands the man who is sitting down across him, gives the knife and all but croons encouragement.

But before the knife can even so much as touch any skin, the silver blade find it way in the vampire’s chest cavity, blood blossoming on his shirt.

“Seriously?” she snarls in contempt and regard both originals (still a ridiculous title might she add) with scorn.

“What-,” the vampire, ripper she notes now she’s close enough that the stench of blood reeking from him suffocates her. 

“Reverse what you did,” she orders, vaguely aware of the claws threatening to embedd themselves in the ripper’s neck.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, _boy_.”

The woman and her husband, (man and his wife, does it matter), go on their way with all their blood, skin and organs intact. The ripper growls at her lowly and she gives him a cold smile in return.

Fortunately for him, Rebekah demands they go out and he, too, is left untouched.

“Since when do you martyr for the humans?” Klaud breaks the silence between them as they walk alongside Chicago River, hand tucked in the crook of his arm.

“Since what your friend was doing was absolutely revolting.”

She doesn’t condemn a good meal, she is rather fond of her hunting trips herself but that game of Rebekah’s who-knows-what was disgusting, point blank.

“And how are you doing here now that you are no longer in your kingdom?” Caroline speaks, diverting the conversation. “I bet it must be really difficult having the people not bowing to you at every turn.”

Klaus chuckles. “A good man knows how to make people kneel no matter where he is, love.”

“Hmm, love, sweetheart. Is it a British thing?”

“What?”

She shakes her head and laughs at his confusion. “Something I heard on the radio.”

* * *

2100,

It’s the dead of the night. People sleep, the wind howls and she walks quietly through the street. Her hands find refuge in her pockets, safe to sweat as they want.

The manor on the far end stands out miles away. Like a haunted house amidst the modern buildings.

Her steps are slow, controlled. She knocks once on the door and waits.

He opens without hesitation, there’s a wrinkle between his brows and she wonders how she looks, the only other soul awake now.

“It occurred to me we never saw any countries together,” she begins. “I thought we should rectify that.”

“At.” Klaus looks at his watch. “Two o’clock in the morning.”

She resists the urge to stick her tongue out at him, merely crosses her arms.

“No time like the present.”

The way Klaus flits his eyes over her is adoring and hungry and she smiles, small but genuine.

Her spontaneous decisions were not always terrible.

Peru is checked off her list and then Brazil and Mexico and she stops keeping track on paper after Norway.

Caroline used to cut her plane ticket after flights but these two, with the ‘Peru’ boldly printed on the front, are safekept with her kimono, sari, the flute she learned to play. Treasured in a big box that stores her firsts.

**Author's Note:**

> Pleeease tell me what you thought, I'll love you forever. This is one of my favourites and I want to know.


End file.
